It’s not well-known, not even in the Jewish world, but after the Dalai Lama was exiled from Tibet, he looked to Jews for advice on how to carry on a sIt’s not well-known, not even in the Jewish world, but after the Dalai Lama was exiled from Tibet, he looked to Jews for advice on how to carry on a spiritual tradition when separated from one’s Holy Land. I first heard about it when I was a part of the New Age-y Carlebach shul, but even then, I didn’t realize that an actual delegation of Jews went to visit him. This book chronicles that visit.
The members of the delegation were not equal to the Dalai Lama in stature. Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I doubt any Grand Rabbi of a Hasidic dynasty would go to meet the leader of another religion. Interfaith outreach rarely happens in the Ultra-Orthodox world, though there are some admirable rabbis who do this. (Case in point: Rabbi Herschel Gluck of London). The delegation to the Dalai Lama included Yitz and Blu Greenberg, a power couple in the Modern Orthodox world, Rabbi Zalman Schacter, a Lubavitcher who educated himself in Eastern meditation and mysticism, Rabbi Schacter’s student Jonathan Omer-man, Rabbi Joy Levitt of the Reform movement, and the author of the book. Because he is an irreligious Jew, the trip taught him more about Judaism than Buddhism, which may have made for more kosher reading, but since I already knew much of what he was saying, I was kind of disappointed. However, whenever he made comparisons between Judaism and Buddhism, my mind was blown.
The most important comparison centered around the Kabbalistic expression for G-d: ein sof, which literally means “without end.” In conveying G-d’s infinitude, it is also fair to say it means, “G-d is no thing.” Compare that to the meditative focus on nothing, which leads to true enlightenment. This theme is revisited near the end of the book with an explanation of a verse in the Aleinu prayer. “For they bow to emptiness. . . but we bend our knees and acknowledge our thanks to the King Who reigns over kings.” The beginning of that verse has been omitted in most shuls for centuries because the Church took offense at it. That, of course, made for a dangerous situation for Jews, but if “emptiness” refers to the Buddhist concept, and “King of kings” is understood as metaphor, then it’s really just a matter of expressing two kinds of relationship. There’s definitely a divergence, but the verse doesn’t have to be interpreted as a put-down.
Another new concept this book introduced me to was the word “exoteric,” as contrasted to “esoteric.” Secular Jews tend to focus on exoteric connections: ethnic identification and the political concerns about the State of Israel. Religious Jews have the added dimension of inner experience, though as a baalas teshuva myself, I understand that it can take a while to feel internal stirrings from our practice of ritual. The delegation encountered many Jewish Buddhists in the Dalai Lama’s entourage, and the main reason they left Judaism is that they weren't shown its esoteric features. So while the delegation had advice for the Dalai Lama, he gave some to them as well: “Open your doors.” In other words, the esoteric mystical teachings should be made more available to keep seeking Jewish souls attracted to their roots. I know that approach is what attracted me in the beginning – Reb Shlomo, Rabbi David Aaron at Isralight. It took me all the way to the Ultra-Orthodox mainstream. So is it time for me to open my doors? If so, I hope I’ve begun with this review....more
I've read two of Amy Tan's novels, so I went into this book knowing why she's one of the most acclaimed writers alive today, but what really got me exI've read two of Amy Tan's novels, so I went into this book knowing why she's one of the most acclaimed writers alive today, but what really got me excited about embarking on it was the subject matter. It wasn't just for the insight to be gained from a master like her talking about her writing process; it was because the flap copy specifically said it was about delving into memory and how that shapes writing. That there's a connection between memory and writing may seem like an obvious point, but now that I'm getting back into my own writing, I see how deep that runs, and I couldn't wait to see what Amy Tan would have to say about it.
My own deeper understanding of this connection happened last summer when I was enrolled in a memoir writing course at the Writer's Studio in Manhattan and simultaneously reading Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir by Natalie Goldberg. As you can tell by her name, Natalie Goldberg is Jewish like me, but she's also a practicing Buddhist, and her approach to writing is meditative. Some might call it "freewriting," but she calls it "writing practice," and she means it as a spiritual practice, much in the way we Jews use the word "avodah." Anyone who's serious about writing will tell you it's a spiritual process, or, if that writer is an atheist or agnostic, a therapeutic one. That's why so many people love doing it.
Last summer, I did every single writing prompt in Natalie's book, which is something I didn't do with her other books. I didn't finish it, but I probably got more out of it than anything else I read that year. Between her writing prompts, which were designed to stimulate memories, and the reassurance of my writing teacher that detailed descriptions are not boring but give your writing color, verisimilitude, and readability, I began remembering things I hadn't thought of in years. It's incredible how many sensory experiences our minds store over a lifetime, and with a little effort, you can bring it all out of yourself.
Once you've gotten in touch with the memories, there are endless ways you can interpret the details and shape them into a narrative. You can view any of your life's event positively or negatively. You can emphasize some details more than others, and you can ignore some things so much that they fade until they're forgotten. Memory is a flowing current that can run in any direction we choose, so the interpretation and meaning of our lives is in our own hands. That seemed like a Zen realization to me, so it's fitting that Natalie Goldberg helped me reach it.
Months after this insight, I discovered Amy Tan's book. She is famous for her portrayal of Chinese women and their Americanized daughters, but what I like best about her writing is how she weaves spirituality and myth into her fiction. Please see my review on The Joy Luck Club for specific examples. So I really wanted to know if Amy Tan, a descendant of the culture that brought the world Zen philosophy, would confirm what I experienced about the process of memory and writing.
I am pleased to say that she did, though that's not the only thing she discusses in the book. She also talks about music, linguistics, and most of all, her family. I never realized just how much of her novels were taken from her mother's life. But not only did Amy's mother give her permission to write her story in her novels, she thought Amy had done such a realistic portrayal, she wondered if the ghost of her own mother - Amy's grandmother, that is - had helped along. Talk about tapping into family and mythic memory! Amy does not reject the idea outright. Here is what she says about it: "If there is indeed a universal consciousness, it makes sense that mine would conjoin with it when the doors of imagination are flung wide open and all possibilities are allowed. . . I have periodically felt I have with me a spiritual companion who drops hints and guides me toward revelations, ones I never would have stumbled upon. . . Whatever it is, I don't need to analyze it any further. I simply welcome this benevolent companion when I write, be it my grandmother, the universal consciousness, or a deeper layer of my subconscious unleashed by my imagination."
My gosh, is that not the most awesome insight into the creative imagination ever?
Even if you're not interested in reading about Amy Tan's writing process, I recommend this book. Amy Tan's life story is that good. But read some of her other work first, especially The Kitchen God's Wife. That was the closest to her mother's life story, and it's astounding in and of itself. And if you are interested in the writing process, you'll learn plenty from this book. Even with the quote above, I haven't spoiled it for you....more
With North Korea so much in the news these days, I was happy the History Book Club chose this for a group read. Once I started reading, I was even hapWith North Korea so much in the news these days, I was happy the History Book Club chose this for a group read. Once I started reading, I was even happier to discover that it was more about day-to-day life in North Korea than its history or politics. Of course, it’s a very particular slice of North Korean life. The author, Suki Kim, is an undercover journalist posing as an English teacher in a school for young men. These are the sons of the elite in North Korea, so their lives are not typical of the average citizen. They are certainly not starving or imprisoned. They’re being trained to be their nation’s next generation of leaders.
In some ways, the young men’s lives are a prison, though a comfortable one. By North Korean standards, they live in luxury and enjoy privileges that few in their country have. But much about their lives is restricted, particularly access to information about the outside world. Since I was feeling down about my own Ultra-Orthodox community while reading this, I saw plenty of parallels to the indoctrination methods used in my world, though North Korea is certainly much harsher and includes intrusive surveillance, which the Hasidic world does not have. Rather, the similarity lies in the author’s brilliant phrase “belligerent isolationism.” Whenever the students confront evidence that some aspect of life is better outside North Korea, they react defensively. It’s hard to break away from the teachings of childhood, and there’s a social cost to it. For these young men, the cost is steeper than what people pay in the Hasidic world. Ex-Hasidics at least have the freedom to remake their lives elsewhere. The young men in this book have secure futures in a world where everyone else suffers terribly. They have every incentive to defend and perpetuate it.
Because Suki Kim was born in South Korea and emigrated to the U.S. at age thirteen, she came of age in a Western democracy, which gives her a unique perspective on North Korea. The two Koreas share much culturally, so the students could relate to Suki more readily than their other teachers, but she was as shocked as any Westerner at how much surveillance and deprivation she and her students were subjected to. The students’ “buddy system,” which is a kind of social surveillance carried out by peers, was the worst of all. Natural friendships can never develop when your assigned best friend is also expected to rat you out. Yet the boys’ desire for friendship, as well as for girlfriends, fights its way through.
Suki conveys life at the school eloquently throughout the book, and as her stay there coincided with the final six months of Kim Jong-Il’s life, it really is an inside portrayal that you cannot get anywhere else. No doubt I should read more about North Korea, but because this was a personal story, it was an excellent place to start. I highly recommend it....more
I’m really glad I went into this book knowing something about Amy Chua, or it would have been much tougher to get through. For those who don’t recogniI’m really glad I went into this book knowing something about Amy Chua, or it would have been much tougher to get through. For those who don’t recognize the name, Amy Chua is the famous “tiger mother” whose parenting memoir hit the book charts and stirred up controversy a few years back. She doesn’t portray herself in a flattering light there, but I also got to know her through a more humanizing portrayal in J.D. Vance’s memoir, Hillbilly Elegy. Amy was his professor at Yale, and he doesn’t describe her as a “tiger” at all, but as a kind and thoughtful advisor. She is the one who encouraged him to write his memoir, and both books explore the ethnic backgrounds that shaped them into the people they became. That theme intersects perfectly with the theme of this book, which is all about “tribes,” the groups we identify with, and how they are used for good and for ill in the world at large.
This book is not a memoir, but history and sociology, which is why I found parts of it dry, complicated, and hard to get through. That’s no different than my experience of most histories; I find they all seem to have some dull or confusing parts. I’ve always tried to push my way through for the sake of the knowledge and insight I stand to gain, but I don’t necessarily hold myself to the standard of remembering every detail. That was especially true for the first few chapters of this book. The very first chapter introduces the theme that America’s blindness to tribal divisions has made for disastrous policy decisions, both domestic and foreign. The next several chapters explore different countries where these tragic failings were at their worst: Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Venezuela gets a chapter, too, but it’s different than the others in that there was no American military intervention there. The Afghani chapter was the hardest to follow because its tribal structure was the most complex. The main theme came through just fine though, as it did with every other chapter. It's one that strikes fear into the heart of this Jew: whenever an ethnic minority dominates the economy of a particular region, tribal resentments fester and eventually blow up in the most violent and ugly ways possible.
The Venezuela chapter was a good transition to the U.S. chapters, which was the focus for the remainder of the book. Chua draws some clear parallels between the rise of Hugo Chavez and the rise of Donald Trump. Venezuela also has its own sort of caste system based on skin color in which the light-skinned had more power and favor. In other words, though their systematic racism is not precisely the same as ours, discussing theirs made for a good springboard to discuss ours.
Chua didn’t shy away from anything. She argued that Americans have to be honest about its racist origins and continued inequities, but at the same time, she echoes the criticism I’ve heard from so many of my right-wing friends: the concepts of “microaggressions” and “intersectionality” are being used to alienate and divide people, not bring them together. I was pleased to learn that Kimberly Crenshaw, the Columbia law professor who originally coined the term “intersectionality,” also feels the term has been misused, calling it, “identity politics on steroids.” So between Fox News propaganda and the drive for political correctness on the Left, the U.S. is becoming increasingly divided into the political tribes that give the book its title. How bad will it get? As bad as the Sunnis and the Shias?
Luckily, Chua does not conclude that it will get that bad. Her epilogue is highly optimistic, especially in comparison with the rest of the book. She cites numerous of examples of ordinary Americans trying to bridge the gaps between us, and she’s inspired me to do the same on a larger scale than I have been. So 5 stars to this important book. Some parts were tough, but the message rings absolutely true. But whether the book is a clarion call to action or a cautionary tale of our future is entirely up to us....more
Comparisons between this book and Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother are inevitable, so here goes. Both books are written by American-born women whosComparisons between this book and Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother are inevitable, so here goes. Both books are written by American-born women whose parents were Chinese immigrants. Both married white American men. And both have respect for the Chinese aspects of their upbringing and try to implement it with their own kids, but they go about it differently. The author of this book is not a fierce tiger mother. Instead of staying in the States, she and her family move to China where she enrolls her four-year-old in a traditional Chinese school where she faces a whole staff of tiger teachers. Since she’s the soft-hearted American, she’s a more sympathetic narrator than Amy Chua. But had this book been merely a parenting and educational memoir, I would only have given it 4 stars. It earned its fifth when the author branched out from her own child’s experience and told the stories of other Chinese students. At that point, it became sociological reportage about a world I know little about, and it was absolutely fascinating.
As bad as the wealth and achievement gaps are in this country, the effects of the urban/rural divide in China are far worse. Because of the vast population, places in the best schools are scarce, and students are made to compete for them at a young age. If someone has the misfortune to have been born to a rural farm family, the picture is grim. For those whose parents leave the farm for factory jobs, it’s even worse. And amidst the middle and upper classes, there’s a whole lot of cheating and bribery going on to secure those coveted spots in the best schools.
Yet for all the faults of the Chinese educational system, the book will show you its advantages. The comparison between a Chinese math class and an American math class is especially illustrative. The Americans emphasize self-esteem whereas the Chinese emphasize acquisition of skills. They learn more, and in spite of it all, I don’t think we feel any better about ourselves. When a Chinese student makes a mistake in class, he seems less likely to berate himself or be made fun of than American kid, at least compared to my own experience. And if there’s one thing this book does, it makes you reflect on your own educational experience. If you like that sort of thing, which I most certainly do, then like me, you’ll find this an enormously absorbing book. ...more
In the very first sentence of this book, the protagonist tells you that he is a "spy, a sleeper, a man of two faces." The setting is Vietnam, so word In the very first sentence of this book, the protagonist tells you that he is a "spy, a sleeper, a man of two faces." The setting is Vietnam, so word "sympathizer" is meant to convey that he is a communist sympathizer, but it means much more than that. The protagonist is a Viet Cong spy living amongst Americans and South Vietnamese, but he was living a double life even before that. His father is white, but white people do not consider him one of theirs, and Vietnamese people look down on him, too, not so much because of his white father, but because he was born out of wedlock. These things have given him the ability to sympathize with both sides, Western and Eastern, communist and nationalist. Then we readers get to stretch our own sympathy muscles. The protagonist performs some despicable acts in the course of this book, but he has enough redeemable qualities that you get invested in his story.
In addition to the excellent characterization in this book, the author sprinkles in philosophical insights that are worth writing down and revisiting. But all of this is amidst some of the goriest, most brutal scenes I have ever read. The worst comes at the end, but the beginning is pretty shocking, too.
One bit of relief in the middle of the book is when the protagonist lands a job as a consultant on a Hollywood film. This gave the author a vehicle to wax philosophical about Asian representation in film and the American propaganda machine. But the most mind-blowing part of the book comes in the last sixty pages. As I said, this includes some horrific scenes, but this is an anti-war book. You don't read it for enjoyment.
And yet, for all of that, parts of it are enjoyable, and as a whole, it carries a powerful message. It's no wonder it won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Everyone on the planet should read it....more
Pearl S. Buck is most famous for her books on China, but when I learned that she wrote one about Korea, I just had to get hold of it. North Korea is rPearl S. Buck is most famous for her books on China, but when I learned that she wrote one about Korea, I just had to get hold of it. North Korea is regarded as one of the world’s biggest threats to stability, safety, and peace, so it seemed imperative to learn more Korean history. Almost everything I knew until now came from watching reruns of M*A*S*H.
As it turns out, Korea has a history that a Jew can appreciate. It’s an ancient culture with its own language and customs, but rarely has it had control over its own land. Japan, in its quest for empire, has periodically occupied it, and in such times, Korea has been forced to turn to China for protection, which of course comes at a political cost. Korea has been a pawn between these two great Asian powers for centuries.
The book opens in 1881 when nobleman Il-han Kim, favorite of the Korean Queen, advises her to reach out to the Western powers instead of to China. After much political intrigue, both the Queen and Il-han are forced into exile. This political intrigue lasts for the entirety of Part I, but it is interspersed with domestic scenes with Il-han’s wife and sons. Sunia, Il-han’s wife, is one of my favorite characters in the book. She starts off as a stereotypically passive Asian woman, but as the book goes on, she gets bolder and savvier.
The book really picks up in Part II. Il-han’s sons are now young men, and as Western influence is beginning to shape Korea, each follows a different strain of it: one becomes a Christian, and the other a Communist. Japan regains control over Korea as a result of the Russo-Japanese war, and its rule makes for the most brutal scenes in the book. But my favorite scene is also in this section, and it involves none other than President Woodrow Wilson. If the book is historically accurate, and I have no reason to doubt it, then dominated peoples like the Koreans saw Wilson’s Fourteen Points as a great hope for their ultimate liberation and self-determination. Il-han gets an audience with Wilson, and it’s a mostly positive portrayal of the former president, which is quite a contrast to the way he’s seen these days in light of his attitude and treatment of African Americans. So I wondered: did Koreans and Poles and other diverse ethnic groups really attempt to meet and appeal to Wilson? If so, I want to read a non-fiction account of it. (I invite your recommendations.)
Part III is about the third generation and takes place during and immediately after World War II. The book ends with Japan’s defeat, which is when Korea was divided into North and South at the 38th Parallel, the cause of the Korean Conflict and the cause of its problems today. In her afterword, Ms. Buck observes, “The mistakes of history bring relentless reprisals.” Oh, such wisdom! So if you want more insights like that in novel form, I highly recommend this book. You won’t just learn about Korea. You’ll get a picture of the human potential for cruelty set against our potential for kindness and courage....more
Ava Chin was one of my sister’s best friends in junior high, so it was really exciting to get hold of her memoir. For the past few years, she’s been wAva Chin was one of my sister’s best friends in junior high, so it was really exciting to get hold of her memoir. For the past few years, she’s been writing a column called “The Urban Forager” at The New York Times, so at least half of this book is about finding and cooking the plants that grow wildly in New York City’s parks, recipes included. It made me curious as to what’s growing here in my own backyard in Rockland, but I can’t see myself joining Ava and her friends on any foraging treks.
The better half of the book, at least for me, was the personal stuff: Ava’s family and love life. Foraging has become a trend amongst New York foodies and hipsters, but Ava was raised with it. Her grandfather, born in China, worked in many restaurants here in America, and both he and Ava’s grandmother knew which wild plants were edible and what to do with them. As a Chinese American, Ava really was in the perfect position to bridge the two foraging cultures.
But the foraging for food is really a metaphor for love. Her relationship with her grandparents was the most loving and nurturing of her childhood; her mother was single, busy, and bitter at having been abandoned in pregnancy by Ava’s father. So in many ways, this book is a tribute to Ava’s grandmother, “awesome to the end.” It’s also the story of navigating the New York singles scene. Boy, am I glad I was spared!
Even if I didn’t know Ava, I would still enjoy her book. The story of her grandmother’s death was raw but gripping, and the story of her encounter with feral bees was fascinating! But the thing is, I do know Ava, and that makes the book even more amazing. I remember when she was thirteen, talking about her dream of becoming a writer. I had the same dream, but I wouldn’t dare admit it in public. Now she’s a writing professor who’s published her second book while I’m still dreaming about becoming a writer.
I also remember a time before Ava and my sister were close. Ava’s grandfather worked at a local restaurant called the Lotus Inn. My father often took us there. (Jews and treif Chinese food. Oy vey!) My sister and I loved it for its interesting décor. It had a big waterfall fountain/wishing well in the foyer, blowfish around many of the lights, and best of all, some of the tables were surrounded by straw huts like something out of Gilligan’s Island. The hostess, a beautiful Chinese woman whom we considered really glamorous, stood in the biggest hut of all with the cash register and after-dinner mints. One evening, my father had taken my sister, our then-best friend, her mother, and me out to dinner at the restaurant. While we were sitting at the table, Ava was standing with the hostess in her hut, which seemed like a position of great privilege to me, though for all I know, she might have been embarrassed about it in front of her schoolmates. Our friend’s mother said, “You could learn so much from that girl’s experiences!” And of course, it was true. We just ate in restaurants; we had no idea what went on behind the scenes. Well, now, with this book, we finally can learn from Ava’s life experiences! And in all this time, perhaps not that much has changed. I buy my food at the supermarket while Ava is still closer to the source. ...more
For the first fifty pages of this book, I conveniently forgot that I picked it up in the fiction section of the library and read it as though it were For the first fifty pages of this book, I conveniently forgot that I picked it up in the fiction section of the library and read it as though it were a memoir. That was wishful thinking on my part; I really wanted this story to be true. It begins when a woman named Rose walks into the protagonist’s grandfather’s restaurant in Saigon in 1965. On page 2, you realize that the woman is none other than Rose Wilder Lane, daughter of Laura Ingalls Wilder and collaborator on the Little House series. For a fan like me, it was a delicious page-turner. I was cheering on the protagonist, who is finishing up her PhD dissertation in literature and putting the pieces of history together. But in the middle of reading, the whim hit me to read other people’s GR reviews, and that’s how I realized I’d made a mistake. Rose Wilder Lane indeed traveled to Vietnam as a journalist in 1965, and the author is indeed the daughter and granddaughter of Vietnamese immigrants, but she has a different name than the protagonist, and the encounter at the restaurant never happened. Realizing the story was fiction put a damper on my enthusiasm. Everything afterward seemed so much harder to believe, and some of the bits about Rose were downright contrived.
But when it comes to describing the experience of being a first generation American, the voice was true and believable. The protagonist is a likable character, and I was engrossed by all her descriptions of running a family restaurant and life in academia, which are the two worlds she straddles. The ending has an especially beautiful passage about wanderlust and striving. But since the immigrant characters are movers and strivers, too, it can’t be said that these traits are distinctly American. They’re human traits.
Although it’s not a major point of the book, I appreciated the reminder that Rose Wilder Lane exercised quite a bit of generosity in her life. I don’t generally think of libertarians that way, and that’s mainly because Ayn Rand’s approach has come to dominate the movement. Ayn Rand believed that selfishness is a virtue. According to her, even acts of charity should be done in the pursuit of self-interest. Now, I can see that self-preservation might be a virtue. It’s certainly a necessary part of life. But selfishness? I don’t think I’ll ever be convinced of that. So if our country is going in a more libertarian, laissez-faire direction, to the point that it repeals laws meant to protect the public from financial and environmental harm, it’s kind of reassuring to know that at least one of the movement’s founders actually gave generously to others. If we’re all going to be forced to live under unbridled corporate greed, I don’t know how we’ll survive without human-to-human generosity.
But I digress. Though this book is of interest to Little House fans, it’s more about Rose than Laura, which will be a turn-off to some people. But really, it’s about much more than Rose. It’s about Lee, a twenty-something academic breaking away from family obligations to build her own life. ...more
As a work of literature, I didn’t find this book all that compelling, but it had historical impact, and that’s why I wanted to read it. It is written As a work of literature, I didn’t find this book all that compelling, but it had historical impact, and that’s why I wanted to read it. It is written as fiction and set in the imaginary country of Sarkhan, but really it is a critique of American policy in Vietnam. It was published in 1958 when the French imperialists were leaving, the Communists were making inroads, and the U.S. was positioning itself for containment. American involvement was more diplomatic than military at that point, but author William Lederer was military brass with experience in Asia, and he had plenty of mistakes to call out. The main theme, which gets hammered home in chapter after chapter, is that the best way for the U.S. to aid Asia would be to send mechanically skilled people who were willing to work alongside the natives on the problems at hand. Hobnobbing within the elite diplomatic class was only making the natives resentful and giving the Communists the upper hand.
The book was a bestseller in its time, and it so impressed JFK that he distributed it to his fellow senators. Then, when he became president in 1960, he took the book’s recommendations and established the Peace Corps. Now that’s historical impact!
Unfortunately, the book didn’t have enough of an impact to actually prevent the Vietnam War. Ironically, then Vice President Nixon is quoted in the factual epilogue of the book, agreeing with the thesis and calling for more work on the ground. Somehow he forgot that when he got to the presidency. The only “on the ground” work he led was carpet bombing.
The authors note in the factual epilogue that the characters in the book are based on real people. I suppose the reason they opted for fiction was that it would have caused trouble for people if they had named actual names. But I think the book would have worked better as non-fiction, either as a journalistic exposé or even a personal memoir. Fiction should take you on a soul-searching journey with the protagonist, but this book didn’t stick with any one character long enough to achieve that. Instead, it’s a series of anecdotes demonstrating both the effective and wrong-headed approaches to diplomacy in Asia. Its point is as true now as it was then, and the impact of inspiring the Peace Corps is the sort of achievement authors dream of, but if you’re looking for a literary aesthetic, you won’t find it here. Read it for its historic value. It’s certainly got plenty of that. ...more
A few of my Goodreads friends reviewed this book years ago, possibly when it first came out, and I was intrigued enough to add it to my to-read list, A few of my Goodreads friends reviewed this book years ago, possibly when it first came out, and I was intrigued enough to add it to my to-read list, but I didn’t consider it a particular priority. I only remembered it recently, and that was because of the book Pioneer Girl, which is also about a small business owned by a family of Asian American immigrants, though it was a restaurant, and the family was Vietnamese. It was also fictional, not a memoir, but the most important difference is that the restaurant was just a fact of the character’s lives in Pioneer Girl. In this book, the deli is the main focus.
The narrator is a Boston-born white man who married into a Korean family, so a constant theme is the toughness of immigrants versus the ineptitude of the spoiled American. He makes so many mistakes, it gets painful to read about after a while, even though the book starts off with a light, humorous tone. But both he and the family grow from the experience, so you can’t help admiring them. It’s hard to run a small business. The idea scared me off before I read this book, so now I’m doubly scared. But in these years of tepid economic recovery, you’ve got to give credit to anyone willing to take the plunge. So hooray for small entrepreneurs! They’re the ones keeping the economy chugging along. ...more
Tim Harford is a frequent guest on my favorite radio podcast, "Planet Money," and I was especially intrigued by his new book Adapt, but as this book iTim Harford is a frequent guest on my favorite radio podcast, "Planet Money," and I was especially intrigued by his new book Adapt, but as this book is his first, most famous, and most general in scope, I thought it was a better starting point. Now that I've read it, I'm even more interested in Adapt and was also pleased to learn of his other book, The Logic of Life, which is part of an ongoing debate he's having with Dan Arielly, author of Predictably Irrational. Exciting things are afoot for those of us riding the pop-economics trend!
So on that theme, other Goodreads reviewers compared this book to the Freakonomics series, except without the freak and more everyday life. I'd say that's a fair assessment, but of all the other economics-for-beginners books I've read, I found this most similar to P.J. O'Rourke's Eat the Rich, particularly because of its concluding chapter on the emergence of China. But this book is more academic in tone than both Freakonomics and Eat the Rich. He tries to tone down the jargon with real world examples, but he doesn't always. While I definitely got the gist, I had to re-read some sections, and even then I think I missed a few of the finer points.
For all of Harford's youth and hipness, he really is a traditional economist. The first chapter introduces the concept of "scarcity power," which is plain old supply and demand, except that the term better conveys the dangers of an imbalance of power when supply is limited. He is also somewhat laissez-faire. What's most amazing about that is that he actually managed to convince me, paralegal student and believer in regulation, that some regulations really are counter-productive, especially when the only reason they exist is to protect someone's scarcity power.
So that's what I learned from this book. Pretty good for a liberal arts major, no? And as I said above, I'm definitely looking forward to more from Tim Harford. ...more
I could write a long, agonizing review about how inadequate this book made me feel about my upbringing and my parenting style, but I’ll spare you. SufI could write a long, agonizing review about how inadequate this book made me feel about my upbringing and my parenting style, but I’ll spare you. Suffice it to say that I am not a tiger mother. I’m a hopelessly slacking Western mother. But having said that, I was not morally offended by as much of this book as I expected to be, given all the negative hype. I think Amy Chua gave an appropriately nuanced portrayal of herself. Most of the time, I admired her. I don’t agree that A - is a bad grade, but the only instances in which I thought she was absolutely wrong was with the death of her mother-in-law and with the nasty violin teacher. But we wouldn’t know these stories at all if she hadn’t been brave and open enough to share them, which to me makes her all the more believable.
So I admit it. I wish I’d been raised a little more Chinese, and I think I should be more Chinese with my kids – except I’m not up to the fight. Probably that’s mostly weakness, but I think there’s some common sense in it, too. ...more
Like many, I was assigned this book in junior high, which means that I got very little out of it because it was "boring." Now that I've read it as an Like many, I was assigned this book in junior high, which means that I got very little out of it because it was "boring." Now that I've read it as an adult, I understand why it's reached the status of classic, but I also understand the mentality of my younger self. Pearl S. Buck is not the most readable of authors. Her narrative drags in spots, but I knew from Peony to push past the slow parts because her characterization is so phenomenal. It didn't take long for me to be cheering Wang Lung and O-lan through all their struggles and triumphs. Even in the middle of the book, when I felt like yelling at Wang Lung, "Stick with O-lan! Don't you see what you owe her?", he was still a compelling character. (But on that note, who in their right mind would assign this to junior high or even high school students? It's most definitely not rated G.)
What made this particularly fascinating was that it completely confirmed Malcolm Gladwell's account of Chinese rice farmers in Outliers. Gladwell quotes a Chinese proverb: "No one can get up before dawn 360 days a year and fail to make his family rich." Wang Lung lived that proverb, as I'm sure many others did. But Pearl Buck shows the converse, too. Not everyone in China was a hard-working, parsimonious rice farmer. Plenty of people lived off the rich by theft, manipulation, or just plain taking advantage. But most important of all: wealth has to be maintained by the same values that earned it. If a wealthy man lets his success go to his head and becomes lazy and self-indulgent, he plants a very different kind of seed - the kind that will lead to his family's downfall. ...more
Kazuo Ishiguro portrayed the British butler mentality so wonderfully in The Remains of the Day that I was curious what he had to say about his natKazuo Ishiguro portrayed the British butler mentality so wonderfully in The Remains of the Day that I was curious what he had to say about his native Japan. Surprisingly, a central focus of the novel turned out to be something Orthodox Jews can relate to very well - shidduchim (commonly mistranslated as "arranged marriages").
The protagonist is a retired artist with a daughter to marry off, but because of his shady past, she's having trouble getting through suitors' families' "investigations." (The Japanese approach is much more heavy-handed than the Jewish, BTW. In this book, they actually hired detectives!) Like in The Remains of the Day, the plot is revealed slowly, so even when you know that "the past" is spoiling the daughter's prospects, you don't know what the father actually did. To be honest, now that I've read the book, I'm still not 100% clear about it, nor am I entirely clear about the family's changed attitudes, but I think it's an example of small-scale revisionist history.
One interesting cultural insight that came from the language is that the characters refer to WWII as "the surrender" at least as much as they do "the war." There's also a lot here about living an artist's life. From that section, my favorite insight was that it is better to fail at some grand venture which most people wouldn't dare try than to just aim for ordinary respectability. But I liked the "shidduchim" section most of all, and here I will quote directly because what the author says rings so true - "It seems unfair to ask a young woman to make judgments so crucial to her future happiness while under such scrutiny herself." The Japanese first dates are more like family dinners. The couple are being checked out by the parents and trying to get to like each other simultaneously!
So all in all, I didn't like this nearly as much as The Remains of the Day and was a bit confused by the politics, but if a Jewish woman can relate to a Japanese family and its struggles, then the author has tapped into the fundamental human experience....more
This has got to be Malcolm Gladwell’s best book yet, and coming from a fan like me, that’s saying something!
As the subtitle states, this is a book ofThis has got to be Malcolm Gladwell’s best book yet, and coming from a fan like me, that’s saying something!
As the subtitle states, this is a book of success stories, and true to his usual style, Gladwell draws on a diverse and interesting set of examples and presents a unique thesis on the ingredients it takes to make a person a success. The first half of the equation is much like Carol Dweck’s thesis in Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Hard work matters much more than raw talent. In the chapter called “10,000 Hours” he cites a study of music students which shows that the number of hours spent practicing is the key determinant in mastery. I found that very encouraging. If you want to succeed, spend your time practicing.
But it’s the second half of the equation that makes his thesis unique, even though this part is somewhat discouraging. True, successful people have to put in many hours to master their craft, but they can only do that when the circumstances of their lives allow it. Now sometimes seemingly adverse circumstances can turn out to be an incredible advantage (Woo hoo! A whole chapter on the history of Jewish immigrants to America), but a genius in non-nurturing circumstances won’t make it no matter how talented he is (hence the depressing chapter on Chris Langsam, the man with the highest IQ in America.)
As with The Tipping Point, I read this book to help me advance my career, but the main lesson it taught me was about parenting. Whatever opportunities I may have had or not had, used or not used, made me what I am today. And in many ways, I do feel I haven’t lived up to my potential, so I have to remedy the situation by putting in my 10,000 hours of practice, by becoming as efficient as a Chinese rice farmer (another particularly inspiring chapter). But the area in which I can make the biggest difference is for my kids. My job as a parent is to create practice opportunities for my kids to exercise their talents and interests. And if they become the people they can be, then all of us will be success stories. ...more
This is one of those rare cases when the movie didn't spoil the book. The movie kept very true to the stories of the eight women - four Chinese motherThis is one of those rare cases when the movie didn't spoil the book. The movie kept very true to the stories of the eight women - four Chinese mothers and their American-born daughters - and did a beautiful job on the ending. But naturally, the book had depth that the movie just couldn't capture. Chinese myth and astrology weave seamlessly through the plot, so you begin to understand what it means for a character to have "too little wood" or "too much smoke." The fen chui (or lack thereof) in the disintegrating home of the architect's wife is probably the clearest application of Chinese myth, though the stories of the main character, her mother, rival Waverly, and her mother are definitely my favorites. But Amy Tan's gift of conveying the concepts of Chinese spirituality while simultaneously telling gripping, human stories leave no doubt in my mind that her work is classic-quality that will survive the centuries....more
I’ve given this book a 5 because it did exactly what the flap copy promised: it explained economics in a clear, understandable way and it made me laugI’ve given this book a 5 because it did exactly what the flap copy promised: it explained economics in a clear, understandable way and it made me laugh. But knowing that the author is a libertarian with an agenda to push, I took him with a grain of salt. Even still, by the end, he had this ex-lefty fully convinced that the greatest civic duty I can perform is to go out and make as much money as I possibly can. But the book is definitely dated; it was written in the 90’s, before 9/11 and before the current financial meltdown. But all in all, it’s an excellent book that everyone, whether right or left, can learn from.
I could see right from the start that the O’Rourke was an engaging writer, but I was almost immediately turned off when he told us, “Never read anything by John Kenneth Galbraith.” Now, John Kenneth Galbraith is the only economist whose writings I’ve ever attempted, and though I’ll admit I couldn’t get through his Money: Whence It Came, Where It Went, I have no doubt that he has plenty of good things to say. Galbraith served as economic advisor to every Democratic president between FDR and LBJ, which means that he’s a Keynesian who believed that deficit spending stimulates the economy. O’Rourke is most decidedly not a Keynesian or a Democrat, but telling people, “Don’t ever read this” doesn’t seem all that libertarian either, but then, I suppose, that’s advice, not law.
Even with that tick against him, as well as the title of his other book (Give War A Chance, for goodness sake!), I pressed on to the first chapter, “Love, Death, and Money” and found such undeniable truths there, my opinion began to shift. What are the three things people think about most? Love, death, and money. Love, of course, is a subject dissected in all its pleasurable forms through countless successful romances in literature and film. Death and what happens afterwards is the focus of most religions. And since irreligious people have a fascination with it too, there’s the philosophy of existentialism. But while money is something people think about very often in their day-to-day lives, for the most part, most of us ignore the subject of economics. O’Rourke blames high school textbooks for that. By making the subject seem so irrelevant to daily life, most people are turned off to economics pretty early on. So plenty of students go into the liberal arts where they can philosophize about love and death, pooh-poohing the crassness of a life focused on money, but rejoicing every time they happen to get hold of some.
As an ex-lefty with a BA in Philosophy, I definitely saw myself in O’Rourke’s description, including the low opinion of business and economics majors. He claims they’re the real intellectuals since what they studied is much harder, though he admits himself that the intellectual exercise isn’t what drives these guys. They’re into money. And even though it’s true that essentially, we’re all into money, there is such a thing as excessive greed and materialism. I saw plenty of it amongst my peers in high school and college. In fact, my reaction against that materialism is probably the main reason I became a self-proclaimed communist at age 16. That early foolishness is probably what sentenced me to remain low income for so long, but I’d still rather be an underpaid editor than some laid-off former yes-man to a bank exec who’s responsible for the mess we’re in now.
And this brings me to the next section of the book, a comparison of the “good capitalism” of Wall Street and the “bad capitalism” of Albania. What was the big industry that caused Albania to fall into chaos and violence? Ponzi schemes. So I couldn’t help wondering what O’Rourke is saying about Wall Street now. I suspect he’d defend his thesis. His conclusion in the capitalism chapters is that rule of law makes all the difference. So apparently, O’Rourke is not a pure libertarian, but Wall Street needed a lot more regulation than he realized.
The next section compared the good socialism of Sweden to the bad socialism of Cuba. The Cuba chapter was just one big misery, but the Sweden chapter was quite interesting. O’Rourke explained the many benefits Swedes get – free health insurance, free college education, free day care, great unemployment benefits – but he also proved with statistics that Sweden’s productivity has leveled off. It was the classic anti-socialist argument: when unemployed people get the same amount of money and benefits that working people do, it dulls motivation overall.
O’Rourke posits that the reason they have made their economic system work as well as it does is cultural. Living in that cold climate for generations taught them: work hard or freeze to death. It was Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers thesis to a T. (The Hong Kong chapter dovetails Outliers even more closely.)
In the next chapter, O’Rourke stops his world tour for a little break in economic theory called “Economics 101 for Kicks.” The main point I learned from this chapter is an economic principle called “specialization,” which states that when all of us do whatever we do best, we’re more productive as a society. That’s one economic rule I wish I’d learned in high school.
And this brings me to a personal point, but since O’Rourke states that economics is supposed to be personal, here goes. When I was in high school, I put myself under terrible pressure about getting into the “right” college. I perceived my choices as limited; there are only so many students who can be accepted at a given college, right? So I had to be “top notch” or I’d only be accepted by my “safety school, ” and what would that say about me? The colleges were in the position of power in my mind. I had to conform to their requirements; my particular needs were secondary.
And this, I think, was part of my flawed understanding of capitalism. Supply may have been limited, but it wasn’t that limited. Capitalism, when it works, makes many choices available. And the educational choices available to the average American high school graduate are so vast, there’s a right place for everyone to be themselves and maximize their own potential.
Another memorable economic lesson from O’Rourke were his descriptions of the three solutions to recession, a very relevant topic now. The first is to raise taxes, which hits the rich the hardest and which he doesn’t favor. Another solution is to print more money so that more is available. But because of supply and demand, having more printed money makes it worth less. Then everyone suffers, especially those who have the least of it. O’Rourke cited Carter as an example of someone who used that policy, but it had even more disastrous effects in the Weimar Republic, predecessor to Nazi Germany. In any case, this seemed like the worst solution of the three.
The final method is the one that President Obama is using: deficit spending. Sweden, he says, is doing the same thing. So while the spending pays for all kinds of good social programs, ultimately, it just puts of the problem till later. The question is: will it be easier for us to deal with the problem later, or will it be worse? Keynesians argue that when the money is spent wisely, it will be earned back, like giving the country a big college loan. Fiscal conservatives would argue that it’s more like the reckless use of a credit card. Personally, I’m praying that the Keynesians are right.
O’Rourke concludes “Economics 101 for Kicks” by saying something along the lines of “Enough about economics in theory. I learned more from studying reality,” and then he launches back into a world tour of economic systems. They all had really catchy titles: “Russia: How to Reform An Economy (sort of) If There Ever Was One;” “Tanzania: How to Have Nothing with Everything,” “Hong Kong: How to Have Everything with Nothing,” and “Shanghai: How to Have the Worst of Both Worlds.” As I said, the Hong Kong chapter is an especially amazing read after Malcolm Gladwell’s chapter on Chinese rice farmers in Outliers. Some aspects of Shanghai sounded an awful lot like the business practices that created the “toxic assets” here. But the chapter on Tanzania, which was the most depressing in the whole book, showed O’Rourke at his most sympathetic and human. Gross national product isn’t an accurate measure of a country’s economic success, he states. Infant mortality rate is. And that’s a bottom line I can respect. Can a country take care of its people or not?
And finally, the conclusion, which gives the book its title: “Eat the Rich.” Remember that grain of salt I mentioned at the beginning of this review? Well, it melted in this chapter. Up until then, I was annoyed at the way O’Rourke was constantly poking fun at the sentiment that gave rise to communism and socialism, the drive to make economic conditions “fair.” I kept reading because he was such a compelling writer. But at the end of the book, he finally acknowledges that thousands of decent and intelligent people were attracted to socialistic ideologies for humanitarian reasons. Once I felt he acknowledged me, I could accept his argument that capitalism ends up creating the most humanitarian conditions of any other system. It’s true that capitalism doesn’t distribute wealth evenly, but evenness is irrelevant compared to infant mortality rate. Yeah, the bank manager lives in a mansion, and the bank security guard lives in a dumpy little apartment. But is the security guard starving? Can he get medical care? That’s the stuff that counts. Quoting from Adam Smith, O’Rourke makes the case that self-interest makes the world go round, but it doesn’t have to mean dog-eat-dog competition. When the rich get rich, the poor get richer, too.
I didn’t become a right-wing libertarian after reading this book. I still think that it’s greedy bankers and CEO’s who got us into this mess, not government officials, and that government regulation of business is necessary. I still believe the government should fund social programs, especially education, because that gives people the opportunity to put money back into the system later. And I definitely believe that fairness is a value we should all strive for, not just a value for the school room, as he jokingly argues. But I do wish I hadn’t bought into the lie that the pursuit of money is somehow immoral. Had I behaved more “capitalistically” when I was young, I’d probably be living a more independent life now.
Perhaps it’s never too late to change. May Hashem make it possible for all of us. With hard work, healthy self-interest, and balanced other-centeredness, may we all climb out of this hole together....more
As I've said before, my criterion for rating a psychology book a 5 is if it changes my life positively. This novel solidified for me my criterion for As I've said before, my criterion for rating a psychology book a 5 is if it changes my life positively. This novel solidified for me my criterion for giving a novel a 5: do I shed actual tears for the characters? In this case, the answer is yes, so hence the 5 stars.
The book is set in the home of a Jewish merchant family in China in the 1850's. According to the historical afterword in my copy of the book, Jews lived in China as far back as the 1200's, and the 1850's is when they ceased to function as a community. How and why did they disappear? No doubt in the way the novel depicts it: through intermarriage and assimilation.
From a Jewish perspective, this book is an absolute tragedy. The matron of the house, Madame Ezra, wants nothing more than to see her son David marry a Jewish woman and carry on the Jewish tradition, even in China. But Peony, the Chinese bondmaid (a house slave, essentially), has ideas of her own about David's future and engages in some pretty elaborate manipulations to get her way. It's incredibly ironic; everyone fears Madame Ezra, but the sly little slave girl ultimately wields more power.
An apropos (though admittedly borrowed) term to describe this book is a "moral chiaroscuro." The characters are not divided into black and white, good and evil. Madame Ezra has an imperious manner, but she's highly principled and is basically kind. David's struggle with his conscience is very human and very Jewish. And Peony herself, while supremely dishonest, also shows an almost saintly level of kindness, especially at the end.
As I said, from a Jewish perspective, this book is 100% tragic. Traditional Jews will be disturbed by it, particularly for its attack on the concept of "chosenness." But it is nonetheless probably an accurate depiction of the fate of the Jews in China, which is something worth learning about. As a historical note, though the book is set in the 1850's, it was written in the late 1940's, i.e. in the immediate aftermath of the Holocaust. No doubt that is what motivated Pearl S. Buck to explore the theme of Jewish disappearance.
As a love story, this novel is passionate, well-written, and complex. I don't know what a romantic would say to the ending, but overall, the book is worth reading just for the characters and the "moral chiaroscuro."...more
Amy Tan is such a master! This is even better than The Joy Luck Club! For three nights running, I couldn't put it down. Like The Joy Luck Club, it's aAmy Tan is such a master! This is even better than The Joy Luck Club! For three nights running, I couldn't put it down. Like The Joy Luck Club, it's about the relationship between a Chinese immigrant mother and her Americanized daughter. It also weaves in lots of Chinese myth and religion. But the best part is the historical picture it gives you. Most of the book is about the mother's experiences in WWII China, and it shows how the Communists both helped and hurt the people. Mostly, though, it's about an abusive marriage. I certainly cried through it, and I'm sure others will, too. ...more
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